


Back Chat

by RogerTaylorCanRawMe



Series: Queen One-Shots [7]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Bend over hands behind your back, F/M, Lots of backchat, Ties as Restraints, belt spanking, sassy roger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogerTaylorCanRawMe/pseuds/RogerTaylorCanRawMe
Summary: Roger's been giving you back chat all evening. When you're getting ready for one of Freddie's parties, you finally snap. Roger needs to be punished.





	Back Chat

**Author's Note:**

> No one asked for this, but I have a huge kink for spanking dudes with their own belts. So.... happy new year, lads and lassies.

As always, Roger was taking forever. You sank down, on to the bed, the springs on the cheap mattress creaking underneath you. You watched as he posed in front of the mirror, wrestling with the dark purple tie around his neck. “This fucking thing won’t sit right,” he muttered. A cigarette dangled between his lips, dropping ash on the worn out carpet.

It didn't take long for him to give up, yanking the material from under his collar. “Here,” he said, thrusting the tie in your direction, “you fucking do it.”

You raised your eyebrows, blinking at him. “You going to speak to me like that all night?” You snatched the tie from him. 

He put out his cigarette, and huffed, leaning back against the windowsill. 

“Because if you are, I’m not going to your fucking party, Roger.”

“Oh come on. Don't be so sensitive,” Roger chirped, “tie the bloody tie and let’s get a drink.” He tried to make his way towards the door but without missing a beat, you grabbed his hand. He turned around defensively.

"For the love of god..."

You stood up, your heels taking you eye level with Roger. Your stare was so sharp that Roger sunk into himself, trying to appear smaller. Instant regret. “You’re gonna treat me better, or we’re not going anywhere, ever.” You slipped the tie underneath his collar and made a start on tying it for him.

He couldn’t resist moving closer to you, to try a different tactic, placing his hands on your hips. “What’s got into you?” he purred.

That was the kicker. He had been off with you all day. Roger needed to be taught a lesson.

You tugged the tie from his neck. “Hands behind your back.”

“What?” Roger asked.

You slunk behind him, taking his wrists in your hands, binding them tight behind his back with the soft fabric. “It’s time someone taught you some manners, Roger.”

“Oh come on,” he pleaded, “we don’t have time for-”

He trailed off when you began to undo his belt from behind, slipping it through the loops on his trousers. You gathered it in your hand to form a strap, giving Roger a push that sent him stumbling towards the bed. He was still planted on his feet.

“Oh, we do.” You had him pinned between you and the edge of the bed. There was nowhere for him to go as your trailed kisses down his neck. 

With little coaxing, Roger went along with it, leaning into your arms, even groaning contentedly. He never spoke, but you could tell he was asking you for more, rolling his hips against yours.

You undid the top button of his trousers to stroke his cock through his underwear, lulling him even further into a false sense of security.

It was sheer bliss to him, having you take control. He leaned his head back, sighing.

“Are you going to do what I tell you, darling? Or are you going to be a little bitch about it all night?” you cooed.

“I’ll do anything, I promise,” Roger resolved.

You lowered Roger’s trousers and dragged his underwear down with them. His cock was beginning to harden, but that was none of your concern. Instead, you pressed your hand to the base of his back. “Over the edge of the bed, darling.”

“Christ,” Roger hissed, resisting for a moment, before begrudgingly complying. He bent over, pushing out his bottom. His lower lip was gripped between his teeth, wondering what was to come. His cheeks flushed at the prospect. 

You gripped his belt, wrapping the buckle around your hand. “Now, I’m going to teach you some manners. You’re going to count out loud, and if you miss a single stroke, we’ll go back to the start until you’ve learned. Are you going to keep count, darling?” you asked.

“Yes, dear.”

“Ready?”

“I think so.”

You gave a sly grin, running the belt through your hand. “Good.”

You started off gentle. The sound of soft, steady smacks filled the room and Roger wasn’t making a peep, aside from counting all the way to fifteen. The skin on his behind hadn't changed a shade you thought as you ran a hand over it, examining your work. 

Roger couldn’t help it, he knew you weren’t giving this your all. “Are you supposed to be tickling me or punishing me? I can barely feel a THING!”

CRACK. 

“Ah! Sixteen!” Roger yelped, arching his back.

“We were only getting started, darling,” you said, lacing your fingers through a handful of his hair. He seemed to nestle into your touch. Then you gave it a short, sharp yank. 

Another couple of whacks had Roger digging his teeth into the sheets between counts. You could hear his breathing hitch as he danced from knee to knee on the floor to distract himself.

“Have you had enough?” you asked, delivering another clip to the back of his thighs. You sat down on the bed and replaced the belt with your hand, squeezing his flesh. “Is someone getting sore?” His skin was glowing in pink strips where you had struck him. 

“I’m ok,” Roger huffed.

“Well, you’ve been so good,” you began, delivering another smack with your hand, “that I’m going to give you a reward.” You grabbed Roger’s hair and allowed him to sit up in front of you. 

His face was flushed as he simpered away. He looked pleased with himself for enduring the punishment you had doled out to him. You leaned in to kiss him fleetingly. Then you moved, out of reach. His eyes were wide with need and anticipation and lust. “Would you like your reward, Roger?” you whispered, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

“Yes please, dear.”

“Good.”

You stood up front of Roger and hiked your dress up. He watched, filled with wonder as the skintight fabric came to rest aroud your hips and your underwear found its way to the floor. You could see his arms moving behind his back, struggling against his restraints. His chest heaved, unable to contain his excitement.

“Behave,” you scolded. “I could easily take care of myself.” You settled in front of him at the edge of the bed, legs spread lewdly. Roger wanted to look at your face but he proved easily distracted. He became fixated on your hand between your legs. 

Your fingers slipped between your slick folds, coating them in thick, clear threads. You held your fingers out to Roger, beckoning him forward. His eyes flickered closed as he leaned in, impatiently taking each of your fingers between his lips to suck them clean. 

When he was finished, he was desperate for the real thing. He opened his eyes, looking up at you, eager to skip to the next part of this scenario. 

“More?” you taunted, drawing your fingers along his jawline.

“Yes please,” he sighed.

“On one condition.”

Roger waited, his eyes darting between your face and your wet, glistening cunt. Lips parted, poised to devour you. 

You raised an eyebrow, trying to drag an answer from him.

He briefly came to his senses, shaking his head. “Yes, dear?”

“No more back chat, darling, do you understand?”

“Of course, I promise you. Best behaviour from now on. I’m sorry I was so rude to you,” he assured.

That was the answer you were looking for.

An hour later, you and Roger rolled out of your limousine. The club where Freddie was hosting his latest bash was unsurprisingly opulent. You two, on the other hand, looked like you had been dragged backwards through a hedge or three. Roger had decided to abandon his tie. Your make up was less than perfect. Both of your outfits were crumpled and sitting askew. Hoping to remain under the radar for a while, you both slipped in, clinging to the walls and looking awfully coy. 

“Late again, you two!” Freddie beamed, taking two champagne flutes from a rather handsome young waiter. It stopped you and Roger in your tracks. He thrusted the drinks into your’s and Roger’s hands. Then he continued: “Come and sit with me, I want to hear what marvellous excuse you’ve cooked up for me this time!”

“Actually, I’m fine standing, Fred,” Roger said quietly, his cheeks turning scarlet. 

Freddie shot you a perplexed look. 

And that was when you lost it.


End file.
